Something Good
by Angelbake
Summary: Having another child is supposed to be a good thing, right? 2xH One-shot


There are some who won't disclaim and there are some who will. There are some who own Gundam Wing and its characters and there are some who don't. Guess which I am.

A.N. Ok, so I'm in a rut when it comes to my "Asphxiation" arc, and I figured the best way to get out of it is to write other stories that aren't in it. Anyways, not much plot if you ask me, but then most of my fics lose their plots somewhere between conception and typing them up. This is about as sappy as I get, though, so eat up.

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Something Good

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Childbirth, as a strictly physical phenomenon,   
is comparable to driving a United Parcel truck   
through an inner tube   
-- Dave Barry

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Any minute now. He could just feel it. Not that it took a sixth sense. It was early morning, Daddy was home, there was no school – it was inevitable. Duo Maxwell, not quite awake, wrinkled his nose. He was waiting, but not ready. Dammit, he wanted to sleep! 

"Daddy?" the voice was sweet, young and unchanged. Innocence wrapped up in a nasally, congested tone. The two-year-old tried again with a name that usually worked for Mommy, "Duo?"

Duo stifled a sigh and cracked open an eye. Beside his bed stood his second youngest son, clutching a blanket and rubbing at his drippy nose. "Hey kiddo, what's wrong?"

The boy shook his head. Downstairs, Duo could vaguely hear his eldest watching cartoons. _Where was Hilde?_ "You okay? Anything hurting on you?"

Again, the boy shook his head. He peered up at his father with matching eyes partially hidden by hair dark enough to be black. He didn't speak.

"What's wrong? Mommy going crazy again, shouting, saying silly stuff like clean up your room or something?" Another shake of the head, he stared unafraid, but eerily silent. Duo finally released a sigh and scratched his head. There was no reasoning with a two-year-old. The boy wasn't hurt, wasn't crying, Hilde was probably cooking so he wouldn't be hungry for long. What was wrong with him? "Hey, aren't you still sleepy? Why don't you go to back to sleep and wait for Mommy to get you?"

Aha! The boy nodded, agreeing to his father's plan. Duo almost smiled with triumph, but it was short-lived. Feelings of elation drowned quickly when he watched his son scramble to get in the large bed with him. The little boy promptly snuggled into sheets and curled up onto his side, blanket, jammies, and snot. Duo watched in dumbfounded silence as the boy instantly fell asleep. _Not exactly what he meant, but oh well._

He turned onto his back, fully intending to follow his son's lead.

"Maxwell, I swear . . ." whatever Hilde Schbeiker was going to say was lost as she trailed off in muttered anger. She made her way to the side of the bed to glare down at him. On her hip rested a baby with dark spiky hair – Duo's youngest. She did not look happy.

"What? I didn't tell him to get in on your side! He's not even on your pillow! He was supposed to get into his own bed!"

"What?" She looked perplexed, but not put off. "What are you talking about?" Duo jerked a thumb behind him to indicate the sleeping toddler. "N-n-no!" The complete incongruity of their topics jarred her for a second. She shook her head and shoved the baby into his arms.

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He definitely wasn't going to get anymore sleep today. The baby gurgled happily and made himself comfortable on his father's chest. Duo gave Hilde a helpless look. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, but rather, was giving the baby dirty looks. Duo had half the mind to ask the baby if he pooped on Mommy again, but didn't think Hilde would appreciate it. She didn't leave him in the dark about what was upsetting her for long, though.

"Duo Maxwell, I promise you," she paused to take a breath, "_You will never ever touch me again!_"

"What did I do?"

"What did you do? _What did you do?_" She was going to start screeching if she didn't calm down. "I swear I can't even be in the same bedroom with you without you – Aaaaaargh!" She was panting, her chest heaving. "Never! Do you understand me? You will never touch me again, Maxwell, or I'll kill you and send you home to hell myself!"

Then she was gone.

Baby and Father looked at each other, one confused and just a bit scared, the other fascinated with long coarse braids. Duo absentmindedly plucked his braids from his son's mouth. What in the world was Hilde talking about? What had her so upset that she was calling him by his last name and tacking on a death threat?

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You will never touch me again!

I swear!

I can't even be in the same bedroom – 

Bedroom . . .

Giggles floated upstairs, his oldest son never missed weekend cartoons.

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Bedroom . . .

Bedroom . . .

Duo looked beside him at the sleeping toddler with the runny nose, then down at the baby drooling on his shirt.

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Bedroom . . .

"Aw, Crap!"

The rhythm of shuffling pots and pans, the sizzle of oil, and Hilde's faint mutterings slowly died. Cartoon characters were choked off right before the punchline. There was a brief argument, then angry stomps upstairs and into the bathroom. Must be time for breakfast. Sure enough, Hilde glided into the room. She was wearing a slim pair of white pants. She'd been so proud when she finally fit back into them. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head ruefully and moved to stand next to him again. She smoothed her hand over the baby's silky cap of hair. They had three children. Three boys, each with their father's eyes and the darkest brown hair she'd ever seen. Together they stared at their previous creations, the baby preoccupied with his father's hair again, the toddler snoring, testifying to a cold he was fighting, down the hall, the eldest complaining about "stupid soap."

They'd always wanted a family, both of them being orphans. A war-torn childhood didn't provide steady substitutes for love.

Duo rubbed his hands in gentle circles over the baby's back. "It's not that bad is it?" He asked softly. 

He looked up at Hilde. She'd lost her senseless rage and was smiling down at three of her boys. Upon hearing his question, however, she frowned again. "Not that bad? Duo, your sons have heads the size of watermelons, I swear."

She was exaggerating. The baby easily fit in the palm of Duo's hand when he was born. Although, their eldest _was_ quite healthy and chunky at birth. Besides, what were they going to do about it now? The deed was already done.

She sighed. "You're more fertile than a river bank, Maxwell." She thought of her first three pregnancies. She didn't have much to complain about really. Not much sickness, cravings minor, no major complications or problems up until labor. Labor. God, labor.

He shifted on the bed, moving the baby to the side as he pulled her down to him. She didn't complain, although she'd just told him he'd never touch her again. The baby sighed, content within the arms of his parents.

"Another one," Duo whispered. Another dark-haired miniature Maxwell. _A girl would be nice._ "I'll have that basketball team yet."

Hilde grunted. She loved her children, really she did. They were dirty, smart, little terrors, but so was their father. And looking at them, cuddled up in bed with Duo, snot, drool, and all – really, it wasn't that bad.

"Hey, Mom," the oldest bounced in, "I figured since I really only use one hand to eat with, I only needed to wash one hand! So where's breakfast, I'm starving!"

Beside her, Duo shook with silent laughter.

"Not that bad, huh?"

"Not that bad at all," Duo answered. He pressed a kiss to his son and turned to do the same to Hilde. A strong hand reached out to stroke her stomach in a loving gesture that was hard for him to acknowledge. She sighed, _would she ever get to keep her figure?_

"Fine, but next time, how about I knock you up and _you_ give birth?"


End file.
